


Me Too

by Guy_Fleegman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Comfort Reading™, Fluff, One Shot, Slash or Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guy_Fleegman/pseuds/Guy_Fleegman
Summary: Mulder and Scully share a slice of pie in a motel room and watch Animal Planet.
Kudos: 7





	Me Too

They were sitting on the bed together, shoes still on, elbows knocking into each other. The light from the TV flashed against their faces, bathing them in greens, blues, and purples. Mulder propped up a plastic container for pie, him and Scully diving forks in without looking. The audio from the TV was quiet, not wanting to disturb people on the other side of the motel walls—though Scully’s room was on one side.

“Such exotic pets,” Mulder said, not able to tear his eyes from the tiger stalking toward an oblivious bird. “Think I’d have one. If I could.”

“Run away.” Scully batted her hand. “Run away, bird.”

Mulder shook his head as the tiger pounced, paws trapping the bird under its weight. The large cat sniffed at the trapped bird, nudging it with his nose as the bird struggled. Mulder thought it was a sparrow, but it was too small and too far away from the camera to tell. The maybe-sparrow squirmed until only a single wing was caught under the tiger’s paw.

“Even if he gets out now,” Mulder said. “He can’t fly away with a messed-up wing like that.”

Scully’s eyes were wide as she watched. “This is morbid, Mulder.”

“Wanna go back to the Ted Bundy documentary?”

“I get your point.”

Scully poked her plastic fork into the pie container and felt an unyielding floor. She looked, and all that remained was a tuft of whip cream smushed into the corner, sprinkled with red, and deflated. Scully frowned at it.

“Pie’s gone,” she said.

Mulder lowered the container, attempting to close the clear lid without looking. Blind fingers tapped along the outer plastic, running over the edge until they met the curve of the lid. Mulder’s thumb plunged into the whip cream before Scully could warn him.

He looked at the container for the first time, his thumb caked in white. A napkin appeared in his peripheral and he snatched it with a grateful nod.

Scully glanced at the clock, the piercing red numbers not registering for a second. When they did, she thwacked Mulder with the back of her hand.

“It’s two in the morning,” she said.

“Explains why nothing good’s on.”

She brushed down her pants, clearing them of non-existent crumbs. Now aware of the time, her focus seemed to shift oddly. The glowing screen was blurry, but the fabric of her sleeve was in perfect focus. She could see the threads that didn’t quite meet perfectly, the small tumbleweeds of white fuzz.

“I’ve gotta get to bed, Mulder.” She pushed herself to her feet, shoes flat and hard against her feet. Her movement shuffled the discarded case files sleeping at the end of the bed. “Thanks for the pie and…whatever we’re watching.”

“Wait!” Mulder pointed to the TV.

The bulbous screen showed the bird writhe, tugging its wing taut, and then slip free. It fluttered away, body listing to the right. Its wing was at an odd angle, but it flew off-screen, the tiger watching it go, madder now more than ever that it was a flightless creature. It had caught the sky for a moment, but couldn’t keep it.

“Huh.” Scully plopped back down on the edge of the smoke smelling bed, body sliding off the comforter slightly. She planted her feet so she didn’t fall. “It got away.”

The screen went black, making a whining noise, as Mulder tossed the remote onto the bed stand. The clunk of the chunky remote made them wince.

“Night, Scully,” Mulder said, stretching and checking the time for himself. Eyebrows raised, cheeks puffed out, he kicked his shoes off, letting them fall to the floor. His head was so heavy he couldn’t lift it from the pillow, just able to brush his cheek across the material until he found a cool spot. He’d sleep in his clothes tonight.

“Goodnight, Mulder.” Scully clicked his lamp off, taking the pie container and putting it on the bed stand. The case files were propped in the crook of her elbow as she opened the door. “I’m glad that bird got away.”

“Me too,” Mulder said into the dark. “Me too.”


End file.
